


Sinners & Scapegoats

by theunapologeticnarrative



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Death, Domestic Violence, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, Mystery, Racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunapologeticnarrative/pseuds/theunapologeticnarrative
Summary: In a small-minded county full of stares and whispers, a well-meaning Sheriff is caught in a scandal with a woman determined to save another - no matter the personal cost. (Richonne)





	1. Prying Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi part Richonne fic. It is an AU I began a while ago but decided to come back to only recently (and finally post). I will be posting maybe twice a month (or more frequently) until it’s done - so heads up.

**1.** **Prying eyes**

Rick Grimes’s job was  _a job_.

It was supposed to be a career, something with a purpose beyond the practical nature of a pay check.  _Protect and serve the community_ , there was no greater honor for a man of his caliber than being a deputy sheriff in a county full of fools apparently. Nothing more satisfying than chasing petty bike thieves all over town. Or breaking up a ‘salacious’ Sweet Sixteen Birthday Partythat was misidentified as an ‘illegal kegger’ by a preachy passer-by. And to finish of this day of dunces, the most dignified activity of all! Once again, calling in at the request of anonymous white folk, unaware that the phrase ‘suspicious activity’ was not an umbrella term for any and all things any person with a ‘darker complexion’ may be doing.

In this case it was the nefarious action of a thirty something years old black woman in a casual, loose white blouse, ripped denim jeans and brown open toed sandals, putting up a couple of posters which needed  _immediate_ police attention. Thank the Lord for the ever vigilant residents of Winter Oaks Avenue!

“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Rick muttered under his breath, furious with himself for even taking the call from Diane at dispatch when he should have known better. Had he not been on his way out of the office he wouldn’t have. But here he was, once again at the beck and call of small-minded racists, trying to work out how best to handle this situation without offending this probably innocent woman or enraging the majority of the town’s voting pool in an election year. The Powers that Be at King’s County Sherriff’s Department would undoubtedly fail to thank him for once again  _“pandering to the so called PC culture of ill-informed progressives instead of serving the good folk of this county, the ones with real concerns about the increasing crime rates”._

Ah yes, the things that go bump in the night. Rick grimaced to himself as he looked at the well lit and virtually empty street. There was no mistaking this woman for a dangerous trespasser and yet somehow, in this community – with that head full of dark dreads at least, she was. Rick glanced down at his wrist watch, it has just gone a little past seven. The sun would be gone in an hour or so and Rick wondered where this woman lived and if he could be so lucky as to have caught her just as she was about to finish up putting up the last of her posters before retiring for the day – none the wiser about the nastiness of her neighbors.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Rick just sat in his vehicle with the key still in the ignition. He simply observed the situation, each moment toying with the idea of just driving off.  _Just give it another minute_ , he told himself, then he could finally get his ass home to his family – and on time for dinner for once. It was another ten minutes into his ‘minute’ when Rick realized he had been caught by the woman. She was peering back at him from across the street, a curious frown visible on her face, even from this distance and Rick knew had no choice but to get out and face her.

Even if it was just for the purpose of damage control.

_Be the change you wanna see._

After a long, tired sigh, Rick put on his wide brimmed sheriff’s hat and made his approach adopting a casual non-threatening strut which hopefully would signal his intent to talk and not escalate the situation. As expected, there was a flicker of blinds from several of the homes he passed. The skin on the back of his neck, accustomed to the fieriest of Georgia’s summers, burned with intense dislike and discomfort. He ignored the rows of narrowed eyes peering from behind the slits, instead firmly keeping his gaze on the perplexed woman he was about to approach.

“Evening ma’am.” He greeted her with a friendly yet still somewhat carefully crafted smile.  

She wouldn’t grace him with the same, her response was firm, respectable yet wary. “How can I help you officer?”

Rick maintained his smile, upholding it against the scrutiny of her heavily lashed dark eyes. “Actually, I was hoping I could help you.”

If she could roll her eyes, Rick knew she would have. Scoff at him and rightfully tell him to state his real intent. But this was King’s County and Rick could sense the tension in the air as she carefully contemplated her next move. Rick wanted to make it easier on her, feeling the burden of the situation and knowing he was responsible for it.

A little less forced and a lot more friendly, he attempted to disarm her cautiousness with old fashioned, gentlemanly charm, the kind his dear grandmother taught him to embrace. “I was just on my way home when I saw you and thought; Hey now Rick, what better way to earn them shiny stars pinned to your shirt so handsomely than to assist this young lady on this fine evening.”

He was careful to introduce himself using his Christian name, trying to distance his true self from the uniform he wore. Yet he could do nothing to shield her from the truth. Her expression, still every bit as guarded signaled to him the realities of the world she lived him. She was tall, taut and terribly beautiful even in her indignation.  

The woman replied almost instantly in a Northern accent betraying her as a newcomer. “I’m almost done so no need to bother yourself. Thank you for your time Officer.”

Dismissed but not defeated, Rick pushed forward. “You sure?” He asked because he knew he couldn’t walk away. Not with an audience as enthralled as Romans spectators, ready to rate this performance with a devastating signalling of their thumb. No, he could not leave her, not to the lions.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Excuse me?” Her bluntness surprised him.

“If not, I’d like to be on my way.” She was smart enough not to move until he gave the okay. Rick felt increasingly uncomfortable with the choices he was being presented him.  

“Look, there is no need to worry. Like I said, I was on my way home when – ”

“I heard you.”

Again, Rick was surprised. She cut him off mid excuse –  _mid lie_. Despite her disinterest in his self-serving speech, Rick still foolishly believed he could walk away from this interaction smelling like roses. Sincerely and softly, he made his final mistake. “Then what’s the problem ma’am.”

Then, finally, came the scoff he deserved.

“I could ask you the exact same thing. Which one called you.”

It was enough to render Rick speechless. The jig is up, the measured tone she spoke with could not hide the fury behind her words.

“Which of those disrespectful  _racists_ , cowardly peeking from behind their blinds called you.”

Rick did his best not to flinch at her use of what would be deemed  _the real hard R_  in these parts. He swallowed hard, truly hating this place and the people in it.

“I just wanna know how I can help with these posters.” He tried again, wanting to so desperately distance himself from the truth. He was their tool, but he could also be here for her. If he could just stop her from tarring him with the same brush. “Maybe even show a taxpayer like yourself that I take my job seriously.”

She wasn’t the problem, Rick wanted to tell her but at the last minute deciding to keep his mouth shut.

She hesitated for a moment, not speaking again but Rick got the message loud and clear.  

_You expect me to buy this bull?_

_Please do,_ Rick’s eyes begged.

The desperate look in his eyes may have done the job as she sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine you’re gonna protect them. I get it. But I need to know for real, am I being arrested?”

It was a sincere worry and Rick knew he could no longer disrespect her by dodging the question. He shook his head and continued to offer further clarifications on his part. He took a step closer, careful not to spook her but also trying his best to create some privacy before confessing his truth.

“It’s an election year.” He whispered.

“Honestly it’s a pain in the behind trying to be that extra police presence.”

“An election year.” She repeated, a frown forming on her face as she processed the meaning of his words.

“Yep. The bosses got a burr in their saddle about it. So unless you have a baby I can kiss or a hand I can shake – I’d like to do my job and help with those posters, if you don’t mind that is.” Rick’s charm finally worked, he could tell by the relaxed look on her face as she nodded in agreement.

Grateful for the reprieve, Rick nodded courteously before helping her gather her bags, papers, and stapler to move onto the next row of bare lampposts. She had every reason to continue to hold him at arms length for what almost transpired this evening, yet past experiences and perhaps a kindness in her heart had told her that Rick was one of the good ones.

Or at least he was trying to be, her slightly raised eyebrow revealed as they walked, side by side, still somewhat uncomfortably.  

“So, what are we dealing with, a runaway pup or –

“A  _‘fly out of the window of a speeding car’_  teddy bear.”

“Ah an  _exotic_  pet.”

She managed to crack a smile for him and Rick’s heart fluttered slightly.

They decided to set up at the first of the lampposts, the joke acting as a much needed ice-breaker and allowing them to work quickly in perfect coordination; Rick passing her the sheets of paper and her carefully using the staplegun.

The teddy bear photo was printed in black in white, a small scruffy looking thing being held in arms of a toddler with big eyes and an even bigger grin on his face. Underneath, a description typed out with love and desperation –  _Help Mr. Bear come home to Andre._

“He belongs to my son. He’s three and I really need it back.” There was a real grief behind her words, her dark eyes not watery but not very far from it.

“I get it.” Rick said staring at the side of her face as she turned away from him. “I really do.” He repeated, careful to just be expressing empathy from one parent to another and internally reminding himself of his own commitment as a father and husband. “He can’t sleep without it right?”

“Something like that.”

“Right. Well let’s get this street and the next done, so you can get back home in time for tuck in time.”

“Thank you, Officer.”

“You’re welcome Ma’am.”

Things were going well and soon this watchful stranger was replaced by incredibly interesting company. 

Pulling a face of mock disgust at the proper way he continued to call her Ma’am, the woman finally just told him her name. It was one he’d never heard before but liked the sound of anyway. Michonne from Manhattan. An art teacher and painter looking to find new inspiration in the Deep South. A mother. The new owner of the Old Kent Farmhouse, self-renovating the crumbling place after the death of the owner and looking to make a home here in this town. Rick listened to her talk and was surprised to see how animated and easy going she was. Deep within him, he felt the shame rising up again from their initial introduction. Her hostility had been understandable, his behavior had not. Still, he was glad he took the call and glad it was him that got the chance to meet this charming woman with the most infectious smile.

She asked him about this town and Rick told her that despite all its faults, it was home and he hoped it could be hers to. She responded optimistically and Rick fought back the urge to apologize for what he knew she had already figured out about the people that lived here. Instead he told her tales about his own son Carl, now twelve years old but still somewhat sentimental about his favorite childhood toy – a dusty blue, stuffed elephant called Frump. He made sure not to tell her about his wife Lori, who had won the stuffed toy at the summer fair when they were seventeen and still in love.

If his job was just a job these days, then his marriage was one too. It was exhausting knowing what waited for him when he arrived home later. For weeks now, his wedding band pinched at his finger uncomfortably, from the weight gained from the drive-thru burgers he ate in his car as he agonized over the state of his marriage with his bachelor pal and partner Shane Walsh. Today, however, he had made plans to make it home for dinner and face the problems head on. Instead here he was, cherishing a few moments of casual conversation about his day that dazzled Michonne but would’ve drained Lori.

And to Rick Grimes, Christian, Father, Husband – this was was devastating.

Still, they got talking and Rick had almost gotten away with it.  

That was until reality came crushing down in the form of the always delightful Ed Peletier, marching up the street like a bull. Red in the face and practically foaming at the mouth, Ed did what Ed  _always_ did.

“Sheriff Grimes.”

Rick managed a curt nod in response for a man he so openly despised. “How can I help Ed?”

“I’d like a word.”

“Sure thing, as soon as I finish up with Michonne here. She’s new to town. Michonne, this is Ed Peletier – local entrepreneur of sorts.”

 _Read between the lines you redneck asshole._  Rick begged, hoping that by revealing Michonne’s status as a homeowner and a part of this community, the information would be enough to put a muzzle on Ed.

Ed however was predictably impatient, after darting a brief but filthy look at the hand Michonne had courteously extended, the gruff man continued to completely ignore her and keep his wild eyes on Rick, whose own hands were itching to punch the man.

With a resigned expression and a quick apology, Rick handed back the posters and followed Ed across the street to the front of his house. There they were met by Carol Peletier, Ed’s patient wife, standing at an open door with a concerned expression on her face.

“Evenin’ Carol.” Rick called out, a genuine warm smile on his face. As much as he despised Ed, he pitied Carol. A small, fragile looking woman with graying hair beyond her years.

“Hello Rick.”

Pleasantries aside and out of Michonne’s earshot, Rick turned to the man who dragged him away from her. “What do you want Ed.”

He dropped the friendly act in favor of a venomous look, bearing no good will for Ed Peletier and the company he kept in this town. 

“I wanna know what you’re playing at Grimes.”

“Families live here. Children.”

Rick could barely maintain his composure, his head tilting at the implication of Ed’s words.

“You have a job to do. Get rid of her.”

“Now on what grounds would that be Ed?” Rick asked. His voice now a low, menacing growl. Ed’s blue eyes were bulging out of their sockets at the audacity of Rick’s question. All too familiar with her husband’s temper, Carol Peletier, placed her hands bravely onto Ed’s arm, holding him back for his own sake.

Rick scowled, frustrated at the woman’s gesture. Carol had no business protecting a man who put her in the hospital on more than one occasion. Despite their struggles, Rick couldn’t even imagine ever laying a hand on his wife. Still, despite the help offered to her, for a reason only known to her – Carol Peletier remained the dutiful wife.

It was a heartbreaking reality Rick had come to accept.

Carol’s actions worked, the brutish looking man was reminded that Rick Grimes was not a friend of his and if given the excuse, would be more than happily fire six warning shots into the thick head wearing that Braves’ baseball cap. Breathing heavily and polluting the air with whiskey fumes, Ed made his next move.

“She don’t belong here.” Ed finally spat out, unable to put things anymore delicately than that.

“She’s passing through.” Rick said firmly, his eyes unblinking and angry. He remained as calm as possible, knowing he wouldn’t have to do much when it came to Ed Peletier. Sooner or later, he’d be hauling his fat ass into that patrol car and back to the station. It was a dance that was all too familiar to the three figures standing at the doorway of the Peletier residence.

Ed was never a measured man and Rick’s challenge made him foolish enough to continue shooting his mouth off. “She’s loitering! Her and that garbage she’s pinning to our lampposts.”

Ed’s bellowing was drawing an audience from his young daughter, Sophia. The girl was the same age as Carl but with a sadness in her eyes that aged her the same way it did her mother. The shouting was enough for a curious and concerned Michonne to abandon her things, cross the street and walk towards the Peletier’s house.

“Is everything okay?” Michonne asked, politely leaning in over the fence stopping at her waist.

It was an innocent enough query and the woman never entered the property but as far as Ed was concerned she had crossed a line.  

“It’s your job to do something about shit like this. Fucking negroes encroaching upon our domicile like this! Disturbing the peace! It’s not decent I tell you!”

Rick snapped at the slur. “Decent? Like your wife-beating, racist, drunken ass would know the meaning of the word!”

And that was all it took.  

The situation escalated in mere minutes. Ed, ready to swing a fist at Rick, only to be intercepted by his quick thinking, self-sacrificing wife. The small woman clung onto her husband’ ham of an arm for dear life, causing him to explode in further fury and her at the receiving end of a closefisted hit from the free hand. It would have been enough to stop there, for Ed to realize he made his point as Carol fell back toward the open door, into their hallway and onto the hardwood floor – taking their poor daughter down with her. But in the eyes of Ed Peletier, any act against him was unforgivable insubordination, something he could not let go unaddressed.

Rick and Michonne were no longer on his radar.

Within seconds, he began shamelessly pounding on his wife with everything he had, completely disregarding the fact there were witnesses standing a few feet away, one of them being an officer of the law.

In between a flurry of violent, merciless kicks and punches, Ed managed to call his blameless wife a stream of obscenities, ignoring the desperate screams coming from his terrified young daughter and the shout to desist from Rick.

It took a full minute for Rick to finally pull Ed off of Carol and away from Sophia. Furious at how much damage Ed managed to inflict, Rick didn’t hold back when he had the chance, roughly shoving the bastard’s face into the gravel of the footpath outside the house. Ed struggled under Rick’s weight, choking on the stones and dirt he was getting a mouth full of. Still full of rage, he continued to make threats against his wife who was covered in red welts and bleeding from a bust lip and cut eyebrow.

Rick expected to see Michonne still standing at the gate, shell shocked at what just occurred before her or at least in angry tears at the racial slurs that were being hurled in her direction. Instead, Rick was surprised to see, she was knelt by his side, stone faced and strong – helping secure Ed as he put on the handcuffs.

She had his back during the struggle. Leaping into action the way only a trained protector would. She told him she was an art teacher, Rick thought briefly, curious to know the rest of her story once all of this was over. 

Ed, unlike Rick, did not appreciate Michonne’s proximity to his sweaty, dirt covered body. Despite being cuffed and beaten, he managed to turn his head just enough to spit violently at Michonne’s chest and face.

In that moment, all Rick saw was red. His weapon was drawn in an instance and threateningly pressed against the back of Ed’s neck.

Michonne jumped up and away from Rick but he could barely register the look of shock on her face at the way events escalated. It was Sophia and Carol’s screaming, however, that he found harder to ignore.

The mother and daughter were pleading with Rick – for Ed’s life. Tears streaming from their face and their anguished cries of “Please, please, please! Jesus Christ – oh God, no please” drawing a crowd. Suddenly, the street was flooded with residents. Curious murmurs turning quickly into panic. But Rick couldn’t see the faces of the community he swore to protect. He could only hear their voices.

“Someone do something!”

“Someone call the police.”

“He  _is_ the police.”

“What is happening Honey?”

“Who is she?”

“Rick.”

Her voice, in a sea of buzzing white noise, it cut through to him and for a brief enough moment, Michonne brought him back. 

Suddenly, Rick was surprised more by his own actions than the reaction of the people around him. Ed was scum but he was handcuffs. This wouldn’t be self-defense but a coldblooded murder. 

“Rick.” Her voice again but this time in his own mind, gently trying to remind him of what had promised her. 

_He was one of the good ones._

That thought was enough to finally sober Rick’s mind. The deafening drumming inside his skull stopped, rage no longer pumping blood and adrenaline to his trigger finger. In between deep breaths he managed to calm himself enough to place the gun into its holder.

Ed, who had been as stiff as a corpse finally relaxed as Rick stood up. Carol threw herself onto her husband’s cuffed body, sobbing still, her eyes never leaving Rick – more afraid of the man protecting her than she was of the man who hurt her for years.  

For a while, no one spoke. They stood there, processing what just nearly happened.

Finally, Sophia stepped forward.

“Leave.” She said looking Rick in the eye. “Before I call the police again.”

_Again._

Rick couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. So it wasn’t any of the people gawking or some ignorant prejudicial neighbor from across the street who had called the station; it wasn’t even Ed, an out and proud white supremacist – it was this small, fragile, eleven years old girl. 

“Please.”

She wasn’t begging him. Trembling slightly, she straightened her shoulders to face down a man with a gun, a man she admits to having called in the first place.

_But why?_

Rick wanted to ask, but it took a quick look at the deep purple older bruises on Carol Peletier’s exposed shoulders and the evil the mere presence Michonne had brought out in Sophia’s father, for Rick to realize the answer for himself.

She was trying to protect them, including Michonne. 

The crowd was growing, neighbors having knocked on other neighbors doors regarding the drama Rick knew they deep down had been expecting – but probably with Michonne as a tragic player not a baffled bystander.

Distracted by the righteous anger beginning to bubble up inside him, Rick decided to address the prying eyes.

“Alright folks, now that Ed here’s calmed down a bit I’m sure you can all agree there are more interesting things that await you inside your own homes.”

“I think we’d just like to know what all this commotion is about Sheriff Grimes.” A familiar voice asked.

Rick felt a twitch in his neck, but replied as calmly as possible to the elderly man with questioning eyes sitting under a dark set of eyebrows and sunhat. “Ah I’m sure you all already do, Dale.”  

Dale let out a sad sigh, showing some humility and awareness. Rick had run into him on previous call outs to this neighborhood. He knew the retired educator to be a good man, taking it upon himself to help out Carol on occasion - administering First Aid or giving her a car ride to the hospital. That said, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of these vultures.

“You heard me first time people. I won’t say it again. Clear out. NOW!”

Rick stared down the residents, knowing very well this would find a way of getting back to his superiors but frankly not giving a shit.

“Right now, let the officer do his job. Come now, time to get out of this heat and back to our couches.” Dale’s mild waves had the power to disperse a crowd far quicker than a water canon and Rick was grateful for the powers of the former school principal.  

The elderly man was about to make his exit when Ed piped up again.

“Where you going you old Jew bastard?” He cried out, flailing on the floor like a sea lion. “You all saw what he did, he’s not a cop. He’s a thug. You’re my witness!”

“Oh Edward, you were a bully in school and you’re just a bigger one now. Don’t make things worse for yourself.” With a disapproving glare and a sigh of disgust, Dale Horvath returned to his own home, a couple doors down from the Peletiers.

Relieved the excitement was drawing to an end, Rick let out of a sigh, he turned to Michonne, who during the uproar had returned to the guarded state he met her in. She was however gently tending to Sophia, her arms protectively around the girl’s shoulders. 

“You okay?” He asked and she relaxed, reassuring him with a small smile.

“You okay?” She asked him back and he did the same.

Rick then turned to the little girl in Michonne’s arms, knowing he too needed to somehow comfort her. “I’m sorry.” He told Sophia, truly meaning the words. “But I’m taking your father in. I have to and I think you agree.”

The girl glanced down at her mother’s battered body, lain over a man who continued to curse under his breath about being betrayed by his own blood.

“Mom.” She said weakly. “Please.”

When Rick began to approach Ed, Carol didn’t start up her screams in defense of her husband. Her daughter’s plea had rendered her speechless. Michonne stepped forward, carefully placing her arms around Carol’s shoulders and with gentle words coaxed her away from the toxic man she had married, instead steering her toward the daughter that needed her. The three women, then stood by, letting Rick do his job. Neither his daughter nor wife were treating Michonne with the same revulsion Ed had, instead grateful for the cover and calm she provided them with.

Rick knew it was a sight that in the future would cause daily bitterness to the prick he had just dragged up from the ground and that warmed his own heart significantly.

Heading to back to his police cruiser with Ed Peletier in tow, Rick Grimes felt a burst of optimism. Maybe things could be different in this small town full of stone throwers. Perhaps some honest to God good could be done, by those willing to commit to acting on their conscience. Something to shock the small minded, their stale sermons and suspicious stares.

Rick took one last look at the trio of women in his rear view window. The sun was almost gone, but as he drove away the white of Michonne’s blouse remained visible in the amber rays. Striking as a knight’s armor, Rick thought, affectionately thinking back to her noble quest for a lost bear.  

“That bitch made the mistake of her life tonight.”

Ed Peletier said from the back of the car, spewing his hate like the last rings of smoke coming from a defeated dragon. His intoxicated, blood shot eyes reflected back at Rick’s calm blue ones but there was no need for a response as Ed slunk back into the seat looking smaller and more wretched than he’d ever looked before. Nothing but a pain parasite, severed from its source of strength.

It had finally happened.

He was finally done counting the times he had to let this man go back to hurting that family all over again.

Rick told himself this lie with little else to fear.

But with all things concerning this town of his, this job of his and this frequently disappointing life he was committed to – Rick Grimes’s optimistic outlook would be a premature one. Just over the horizon there waited the all too familiar failure of busted jaws, and broken promises.  

In a month’s time they’d end up in back in this place.

And the month after that, Rick would be praying to be back here once. Back to a time where things weren’t all that bad – dealing with bruises instead of a bloated, lifeless body. 


	2. Untouchable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some description of violence.

**2.** **Untouchable**

“When’s your dumb ass gonna learn huh Ed?”

It hadn’t even been a full month yet when  Rick Grimes’ ears, all the way from the bullpen, picked up the sounds of an angry shouting match ongoing in the hallway between his partner and the very man he had hoped he wouldn’t be running into again so soon. Mad as hell, he got up from his desk, abandoning a shit pile of paperwork and arriving at the scene just in time to witness Deputy Sheriff Shane Walsh shamelessly commit an act of police brutality by letting Ed Peletier’s head collide into a clearly shut door.

_Twice._

The man let out an agonizing scream.

“Ouch! My bad, brother.” Shane apologized with a completely sarcastic smirk, before continuing to manhandle his detainee. Jerking Ed back towards his chest, Shane turned to Rick. “Hey man, can you get that for me?”

Rick smiled as he opened the door, glad that Shane had the same lack of restraint he did. Perhaps it would be better for everyone to let Shane handle this one, Rick told himself.

With that happy thought, he would have walked away had Carol not arrived at the station a few moments later, wearing a tired yet concerned look on her face.

* * *

 

She did nothing to greet Rick.

“You’re a dumb fucking bitch Carol! I married a dumb fucking bitch!”

Rick sighed wanting to be surprised at Ed’s less than warm words for his wife or Carol’s dutiful arrival, but instead he was wondering if there weren’t some truth to them. It made him feel a sick with shame but after three weeks of relative peace and quiet, he was beginning to belief that Carol Peletier had finally found the strength to make the decision to kick her no good dog of a husband to the curb.

But here she was. Ready to bail the bastard out. Again. 

The week after last month’s incident had been a tough one for Rick. He had his ass handed to him by a boss who wasn’t all too concerned at the use of force applied in  _“a simple dispute between a man and his wife”_ , but was absolutely livid at the sheer volume of calls that came in regarding Rick’s handling of the matter.

What had caused the red-faced man particular distress - which he happily relayed to Rick in a loud and clear manner -  was the inexcusable way in which someone in his employ, could cause such an _“unwarranted scene”_  in an election year. 

Rick made his peace with the man, taking full responsibility and keeping the details as vague as possible. Luckily it had paid off and Michonne’s name hadn’t come up in the dressing down. Yet Rick did wonder if it was because Ed’s openly racist rantings were a little too indelicate for the more insidious polite form the head of this department was more accustomed to engaging with. Ed’s behavior was nothing new in this town and the town tolerated it in part because of the man’s family history.

The Peletiers did not come from money, but they did enjoy their own slice of the American dream in this town, all thanks to Ed’s great grandfather, a much beloved and much bigoted historical Mayor. It was disturbing to Rick how much sway a dead bigot still held in this town, a place determined to fondly hold on to the memory of  _Jim Crow_. Ed himself was no politician, he simply owned a couple of stores but each of them successful enough to make his face one familiar to entire to most residents. His wife, Carol, worked from time to time in the grocery store whilst he managed the hardware one on a full-time basis.  

Essential pillars of the communities, the Peletiers. And in return for their service, no one batted an eye at any ‘family disagreements’ that may  _or may not_  occur in the privacy of their home (or in the middle of town square).  Besides, as Rick was told on many occasions by kind concerned church-goers, it’s not Ed but the drink that’s the devil. Prayer not judgement, that’s the Lord’s way.

The excuses made Rick’s blood boil. It didn’t matter that no amount of whiskey ever made him or any other decent human being join the Loyal White Knights of King’s County, a local charter of the Klu Klux Klan. But as much as Rick tried to tell people  _exactly that_ , he quickly began to realize that sadly not all its members were as bold as Ed in their affiliations and Rick had to be careful about the motivations behind those who continued to protect Ed. For that was the problem with this town; the fictions it told itself, they run as old and deep as the Chattahooche River.

Rick couldn’t help but think back to the events of the summer before last.

The Theodore Douglass case had been the catalyst for Rick’s disillusionment with his job and a real wake-up call regarding the insidiousness that sat beneath this small town. A more self-aware man would have gone as far as to say it was the catalyst for many of the events in Rick’s life since, including the tension in his marriage. But despite ‘waking up’ to reality, Rick still somehow continued to live in that comfortable in between space occupied by desperation and denial and in all honesty, was far from ready to face the repercussions of opening that particular can of worms.

Yet here he was, back at his desk, doing just that.

Theodore ran King County’s animal clinic. He had gotten his degree at the University of Georgia College of Veterinary Medicine but confessed to Rick one time that he always knew his skills were far more valuable outside the big city. He was a big man with a big heart and most residents took to him as well as they could have considering the color of his skin. An animal lover and a friend to the canine unit here at the Sheriff’s Department, Rick enjoyed taking out time in his day to chat with Theodore or T-Dogg as Shane affectionately named him – a blunder that made Rick cringe inwardly but Theo seemed to not mind.

He had made a home here and whilst the residents didn’t embrace him, they did not reject his much needed skill and care for the animals of King’s County.

However, not all of them shared the same sentiment.

One late night in June 2016, Theo made the mistake of making a late home call to a farm on the outskirts of the county. He went out to tend to an emergency regarding a sick mare and ended up being admitted into Harrison Memorial with a face so caved in that looked that it was violently kicked in by the beast itself. It took Theo two weeks to regain consciousness and three days after waking from his coma, Rick took his statement and the case was decidedly shut.

A failed carjacking, was the what the local headlines said. Every paper making sure to never report the faint markings of what looked like Klan insignia, carved onto the hood of Theo’s car. A car supposed desired by ‘thieves’ who instead burnt it to nothing more but a smoldering, metal hull and left the owner, inches from death, beside it.

“Now  _I know_  and  _you know_  and it’s all so fucked up man. But without T’s statement there’s not enough, not with that damage.” Shane had to frustratingly remind him on countless occasions, begging Rick to accept that their hands were tied.

It was a scare tactic, a message for Theo and it did the job.

Theodore Douglas named or described not one person. Little over two months after the incident, he was strong enough to transfer to Emory and choose to complete his rehabilitation in Atlanta. He never set foot in King’s County again.

Rick couldn’t say he was sad to see him go, knowing that he probably would have done the same. Theo, unlike Rick, had nothing tying him down to this town other than his love for animals, the ones he found he was being treated far worse than. The savage monsters that hurt him would walk free but the doctors could not say the same for Theodore, who would be battling the rest of his life with the mental and physical damage inflicted upon him that day.  

The events surrounding the case haunted Rick, his frustration seeping into his home life and his marriage. It has been two years almost and his obsession with the case was just another thing that Lori could no longer stand about him. It wasn’t fair to be mad at her for the evils in this town or blame her for taking issue with the reckless way he continued to endanger his life, career, and reputation. But somehow Rick resented her anyway. She didn’t understand. Didn’t want to.

So instead he was alone - carrying around the guilt of having failed a decent man and good friend and doing stupid things like pull out a gun in broad daylight on that bastard Ed Peletier.

“This is our home Rick. Nothing’s going to change that.” Lori flat out told him that night.

“What happened was – just awful. But Theodore is gone, living his life and you need to think about what happens next.”

Rick did his best not to argue with her because deep down he knew she was telling the truth. He had come close to losing his job three times now and without the protection of his badge, men far worse than Ed Peletier were less likely to tolerate him.

No, Lori was right in that he couldn’t lose this job. It was the only way to keep hurting these people.

 

 -----

 

“I didn’t call them Ed.” Carol said pleading with her husband as Shane cuffed him to a bench. “I swear.”

“You may as well have!” Ed retorted back from his seat. “You ain’t been the same, ever since that bitch.”

Rick’s interest peeked at the mention of Michonne. He hadn’t spoken to her since the first evening they met and would be lying if said he hadn’t thought about checking in on her. She played on his mind like a half completed melody, and over the last few weeks he thought of her often enough to make arrangements to see her. Even if it was just from a distance.

For a brief while, Rick took over pick up duties from Lori. Just on Thursdays; he hoped he could stop by the school and catch a glimpse of her. It wasn’t quite right in terms of how it looked, but Rick somehow didn’t care. He needed to see how she was. For his own peace of mind.

And she seemed to have settled in – just like Theo had. He saw her twice, once in a brilliantly yellow summer dress, waving off students with a wide smile and once more, in brown slacks, heading to her car carrying a bag of sketch books to grade.

Carl noticed his father’s stare and helpfully offered up a few more details regarding  _Ms. Anthony_ , _the new art teacher_. Rick was grateful for his son’s interjection, but also wary about how far this had gone. Chastising himself in private for the disturbing lapse in judgement; the next Wednesday Rick called Lori from work and told her he could no longer fulfill his commitment. Carl would have to find another ride home.

Carl seemed a little disappointed to be giving up their special alone time together but like with any twelve years old something better came along to distract him and Rick knew he could make it up to him in some other way. He was quickly forgiven and Carl remained none the wiser of his father’s interest in Ms. Anthony.

Back in the station, Carol let out a frustrated sigh in response to her own accusations regarding her relationship with Michonne. “I said I was sorry Ed. You said you forgave me.”

“And you said you’d never see her again!” Ed yelled back. Rick was surprised to hear him sound so afraid. Michonne’s presence in Carol’s life made him uncomfortable but not for the obvious reasons regarding racial prejudice. Carol continued to defend herself, it was as if the consequences didn’t matter.

“You’re being paranoid and that’s not my fault!”

Rick almost let out a gasp of disbelief at what he had just witnessed. Carol Peletier standing in front of her husband, pointing the finger at him accusingly and laying the blame at his feet. For a moment, there was a sudden but steely glint in her eyes as she spoke, waving her hands in front of Ed’s face. Rick wondered if Ed saw it too. He barked and howled, but never again with the same intensity Rick was accustomed to seeing from him.

“Don’t lie to me woman!” Ed replied but it wasn’t quite the threat the man had hoped it would be. “Don’t pee down my back then tell me it’s raining! You been seeing her! I know you have!”

Carol rubbed her face in frustration before pacing silently

“Why else we here huh?” Ed asked his intense blue eyes fixed onto his wife’s, waiting for an answer.

Shane rolled his own brown ones and took the question instead of Carol. “You’re here cuz you’re idiot enough to man handle your wife in front of a cop. Again!”

Carol turned to Shane and shook her head. “I said I was okay. He didn’t hurt me, honestly. Just grabbed my arm.” The short haired woman promised and Rick sighed disappointingly. Not everything had changed, she was still protecting him. 

Ed joined his wife in making his case. “I was just visiting my woman at a store I own when you just arrested me!”

“You suggesting I shop elsewhere?” Shane said with a sneer.

“I’m suggesting you let me go before your boss gets here or I decide to tear you to pieces myself Walsh!” Another threat that just seemed to fall flat.

Shane was openly mocking the man by now, not giving a shit and enjoying it. “Yeah, yeah Ed. Keep it up. All the more for me to use to fill out that report of yours. Getting almost as thick as that skull buddy.”

It was enough to cause Peletier to try and shake himself free in a futile attempt to throttle the deputy. The sudden movement and threat of attack put Rick on alert, but caused Shane to switch in an instant from laid back jeering to roughly slamming the man back down onto the bench. He was inches from Ed’s face, a dangerous blank look on his usually animated face.

Rick watched them uncomfortably but in the end all Shane did was warn the man in a chilling whisper that silenced him.

“Sit tight now whilst I have a quick word with your loving wife.”

Shane then warmly gestured for Carol to follow him into an adjoining room and after deciding it was best to leave Ed to stew on his own, Rick followed.

As soon they were alone, Shane’s friendly façade dropped and he began harshly tearing into the small woman he was suddenly towering over. “Lemme ask you something Carol. How many times we gonna end up here? How many times huh?”

“Shane.” Rick warned his friend, stepping in between him and the surprised woman. But Shane wouldn’t stop, barking over his shoulder warnings they both knew by now about how Carol would not respond to gentle advice.

“You wanna end up dead, is that it? Want that sonofabitch to kill you good?”

“Shane. Back up.” Rick tried again, this time more forcefully, pushing Shane back with the palms of his hands. “Now.”

Despite sensing his friend’s disapproval, Shane’s behavior did not change, he was yelling to get the attention of a woman being shielded from his furious rants by Rick’s protective form.  

“Step. Away. Walsh.”

The stare down didn’t last long.

Irritated but with no choice but to back down to Rick’s unwavering sense of authority, Shane Walsh rubbed his aggressively head then walked to the other side of the room to cool off. His dark brown eyes were still fixed onto Carol, who stepped out of Rick’s shadow, looking far from intimidated by the aggressive posturing of the frustrated younger man.

A moment passed and Shane cursed under his breath before, hurriedly muttering an apology that Carol seemed to generously accept.

“Just don’t go dying for him Darlin’, I’m begging ya.”

With that said, Shane begrudgingly left the room.

Once they were alone together, Carol thanked Rick. “I appreciate what you been doing for me Rick. And not just today.”

“Don’t Carol. Please.” Rick said rubbing his tired eyes before letting out yet another sigh. “He’s right and is probably trying to do you more of a favor than I am.”

“I- I can’t.” Carol confessed. “He’s still my husband.”

“What about Sophia?” Rick asked, feeling low for using Carol’s daughter against her like this but after the last time, he was really struggling to get out of his head that picture of a small, scared blonde girl taking shelter in the arms of a complete stranger from the man that raised her.  

“Carl told me about her.” Rick continued, now committed to the tactic of manipulating Carol in to taking action against her husband. “She’s afraid of him.” 

For a moment Carol looked shocked and almost angry.

Rick ignored it. “She’s afraid of what he’ll do to you.”

Carol’s shoulders relaxed, the flash of anger was gone and she was breathing more easily.

Rick on the other hand couldn’t shake the disturbing feeling that he had just stumbled onto something. “Carol. Is Sophia safe?”

“Y-yes.” Carol said before repeating herself again without the hesitation. “I protect her Rick.”

“I would never let anything happen to her.”

That Rick believed, there it was again in her eyes – the steel from before.

“Okay.”

“Now what do I do about him this time.”

She looked back at him with pleading eyes more familiar to him and Rick knew that whatever steps he was going to take against Ed, he had to keep in mind that the man would be returning home to Carol.

“A few hours in the tank to sober up?” Rick suggested, but he could tell from Carol’s face she was disappointed.

Rick smiled a little, glad to take the look as permission to continue to offer his help. Any step in the right direction, no matter how small, was one he was willing to work with. “How about the night and a fine for disorderly conduct.” He said amending himself. “You can come pick him up in the morning or late afternoon. You decide.”

Her eyes thanked him even if her mouth daren’t just yet. Then she was out the door, to find another officer giving her statement to, determined to spare Rick the ordeal.

She’d sleep easier tonight but Rick wasn’t sure if he would. The Peletier problem weighed down on him with a sort of helplessness that was starting to feel like Theodore Douglas all over again. Rick shuddered at the thought, wondering if Shane had been right that time he suggested that they needed to take matters into their own hands when it came to Ed.

Leave the badges at home one night but make sure to take their batons… _Put the fear of God into that sonofabitch._

Rick shook his head at the thought, he wasn’t a vigilante. The image of hooded figures administrating their own brand of justice in this part of the world, sent a chill down his spine. The man holding a gun to Ed’s neck, itching to pull the trigger - wasn’t who Rick was. No matter what, he still believed in his oath, the problem was he was working in a place where it was steadily becoming meaningless. But for now, the best he could do is - on occasion,  turn a blind eye and let Shane shove Ed’s skull into a wall or two on the way to the drunk tank.

“This is police brutality!” Ed’s yelling was supposed to garner the attention of Diane at the front desk and couple other officers.

But the middle-aged red head remained as disinterested as always. 

“Call a lawyer asshole. I dare ya.” She scoffed, ignoring Shane’s behavior towards the prisoner in their custody.

Ed turned to Rick who had just joined them, his face filled with outrage. “You hear that Grimes? You gonna do something or what?”

Rick feigned ignorance, walking the opposite way towards his desk, but knowing very well it would be his job later to pacify the bastard so he didn’t take it out on his wife.

\-----

Back at his desk, Rick found an unexpected but not unwelcome visitor.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Rick said, his voice instantly lighter and his face beaming with the warmth of a genuine smile. Michonne greeted him with a small wave of her painted fingers. 

“Well Officer, ain’t you heard, us damn negroes just be showing up all over the place.”

Rick grinned a little at her use of dark humor as an icebreaker, respecting the strength behind the choice to confront the ugliness they both had witnessed that day. But deep inside, he couldn’t help but flinch at the repetition of just some of the words Ed Peletier hurled at her a couple weeks ago. He wanted to protect her from such words but wasn’t naive enough to think she hadn’t heard it all before. 

She was in the same yellow dress he saw her in at the school. A light, flowy cotton thing that cut off at her shoulder and knees. Up close it stunned his senses. She was leaning with her round back casually pressed against the front of his desk; the fabric of her embroidered hem, flapping on the stream of air coming from the office fan and every so often moving things to reveal a little more of the shiny dark skin of her legs. Her incredible dreadlocks were pulled up into a tied up in a huge elaborate bun, revealing all of her - face, long neck and collarbone - to Rick.

Rick politely yet urgently signaled for her to take the seat opposite him, knowing he couldn’t handle much more of the incredible portrait before him. It was like looking into the sun and Rick feared God would blind him for it.

She took up the offer but still wasn’t making it any easier on him, the shape of breasts slightly more visible now she was seated.  

Rick had to internally recall his vows knowing now there was no more pretending. His intentions towards this woman had gone beyond the duty of his office, the Christian love for thy neighbor or even the longing for simple friendship. It was lust. The terrible kind described in Hebrews 13:4; of fornication, dishonor and the defilement of the marital bed.

All things Rick Grimes wanted to so desperately indulge in.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Peletier.” Michonne announced, breaking up Rick’s string of indecent thoughts.

Rick tried to not look too surprised.

Of course, this woman was gonna be a saint too! She didn’t need to befriend the wife of a man who treated her so despicably and yet here she was, the shine of her halo causing the devil inside Rick to stir with desire.

“How’d you know?” He asked and Michonne smiled knowingly.

“I was in town when he decided to confront her, laying his hands on her again.” Michonne said bitterly. “I think he saw us talk a little while earlier.”

Rick nodded sympathetically, recognizing the guilt she must’ve been feeling. “Is it okay that you’re here?”

Michonne laughed at the worried tone he had asked her that question with.

“Where else would I be.”

She wasn’t easily scared off by the unsettling threats Ed Peletier had made against her and Rick secretly wished she could’ve been.  

“It isn’t your fault you know.” He said, trying to absolve her of any responsibility she may have felt for Carol’s heart-breaking situation. “This been happening before you moved here.”

“Yeah I know how it is.” She said, her voice betraying a deep, personal resentment for men like Ed. Rick couldn’t help but wonder what it meant.

“You do?”

Catching herself, the frown on Michonne’s face eased. “I mean – I can imagine.”

Rick was forced to accept her answer and move along the conversation. It didn’t feel right to pry so Rick didn’t. But also, it didn’t feel right to thank her, so Rick didn’t do that either. Instead he just asked the Lord to protect this angelic woman from Ed Peletier’s wrath until the day Carol had the courage to break free from her ordeal.

“Carol’s just gotta give a statement.”

Seeing Michonne move in her seat Rick quickly added. “She should be out in a moment.”

“You can wait here.”  _With me_ , Rick almost said, stopping himself at the last second.

Again, he was graced with the warm smile of a stranger and the guilt of a wife who was slowly becoming a stranger to him.  _It’s harmless,_  Rick told himself. He was back to telling the lies he begun to spin when he got to the station a couple weeks ago. Once Ed had been done cursing him all the way to the usual holding cell, Rick left him in the care of his officers and raced home to Lori.

He had missed the dinner, but it didn’t seem to bother his wife who had come to expect this behavior from a man who in her eyes wouldn’t stop putting her second. Feeling terrible, he tried to make it up to her with a bouquet of her favorite flowers, pink daisies and a tub of cotton candy from Hershel Green’s confectionery store. 

Having received her gifts in front of their son, she thanked Rick politely. Opening the tub at the kitchen counter and generously sharing it with Carl despite her no sweets before a hot meal rule. The boy was excited by the sugary treat but even more by the rare treat of seeing his parents getting along, no matter how fleeting or forced it was. Once he left the room, Rick strolled over to kiss Lori as only a dedicated and loving husband could.

“It’s not the same as the hot sticky smell of the fair but I still love tasting it on your mouth.” His words were sincere and that’s what made it all the sadder for the both of them. They made love that night, the first time in months, except it wasn’t with each other but with a memory from their past.

Now weeks later, Rick was sitting in front of another woman, one that reminded him of a different kind of summer dream, deeply wondering what it would be like to taste  _her_. Bring her flowers. Pull that dress off of her body and take her to bed instead.

Pushing that image out of his mind, Rick regained his senses.

“Hey, do you think you’d want to lodge a complaint about Peletier?”

Michonne looked surprised by how she suddenly becoming the subject of retribution.

“Sorry about putting you out like this by reminding you, but he did assault you. When he – uhm – spat at you and uhm – said those  _things_.” Rick almost regretted it as soon as he brought it up, but he couldn’t help but hope that he could do something more to hurt Ed Peletier for what he perpetrated against Michonne. 

“I could smack him with something. Simple assault.”

Michonne appeared to think it over for a minute. When she finally spoke, “He did threaten me” was all she said.

Rick rubbed his hands together, uncharacteristically excited at the prospect of more paper work. “Okay then, let’s do this Michonne. You and me.”

But Michonne sighed, shaking her head gently to let him down.

“No, it’s fine.”

Rick frowned at the choice of words and she could sense it, quickly correcting herself.

“Well it’s not fine. Far from it. But Rick – you know what I mean.”

The way she used his name, so intimate and personal, Rick struggled to get mad at her. He wished he didn’t know what she meant, trying to blink away the flashing image of Theodore Douglas’s thoroughly broken face. His silence had begun way before that incident. But his skin, thick as hell, bled just the same. 

Michonne wasn’t Theodore. She wasn’t pressing charges but she wasn’t about to be chased out of town either. Rick could tell as much from the upright way she sat in the chair before him – not ignoring the eyes of strangers that passed by them but effectively meeting each and every stare with a deadly one of her own.

“Besides, if anything you should be thinking up ways to bring up battery charges on account of what he’s been doing to Carol.” Michonne  was challenging him, trying once again to see what kind of man this Rick Grimes before her truly was.

“God knows I have tried.” Rick said, ashamed to meet her eyes the same way he had the evening they met. “Nothing sticks without Carol.”

Things were a little tense after that and it seemed as though they were both happy to be interrupted by the arrival of Shane Walsh. But having just about caught the end of their conversation, the deputy decided to weigh in his two cents on the matter.

“Georgia defines domestic violence as an act of family violence, there is still plenty that can be done.” Shane insisted taking this unfamiliar woman’s side,  voicing his bitter disappointment in Rick’s  _wait and see_ stance.

“Throw that Code Title 19 at him and watch it all fall into place.” Shane had begun counting down on his hands, yet missing a number of steps Rick knew the other man was aware of. “One, a family law protection order to prevent contact. Two, jail time if Ed even so much has a thought to breathe the same air as Carol. Oh and just for good measure, why not throw at him an aggravated stalking felony as a third.”

Rick raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with Shane’s exaggerated simplification of the justice system and its ability to come through for women in the position Carol was in. But for the sake of his new audience, Michonne, Shane refused to abscond the pitch.  

“She could have her house. Get him away from Sophia. Get help and get strong.”  

Once he had finished, Michonne turned to Rick, a questioning look in her eyes revealing that somehow in all of this, she still wanted to hear his take on things. She wanted to believe he wasn’t just as Shane seemed to be inadvertently suggesting, sitting on his ass and twiddling his thumbs.

He didn’t even look at his partner, responding directly only to the concerns of the woman in front of him. “I’m telling you, without Carol nothing sticks.”

Shane cursed under his breath and Rick thought it best to finally make the introduction between the two people at his desk, even if it was just to change the subject.

“Michonne, this Shane Walsh. A fellow deputy here at KC.”

Shane shot Michonne one his trademark charmer smiles, taking her hand for a moment longer than Rick was comfortable with. “It’s good of you Michonne. What you doing for Carol, fine stuff.”

Michonne thanked him, oblivious to the flirtatious twinkle in his deep brown eyes. “Wish we could be doing more.”

Rick’s heart sank a little at those words.

Noticing his friend’s discomfort, Shane finally came to Rick’s rescue.

“Yeah but what can we do. She’s won’t be helped. Some people will let others get away with anything.”

Rick groaned inwardly at Shane’s poor choice of words. As expected, Michonne’s mood soured at what she perceived to be a mean-spirited jab at Carol. “She’s a victim.”

Shane shook his head not giving an inch. “She can  _choose_ not to be.”

It was enough to make Michonne stand up from her chair, jaw slightly clenched and eyes narrowed. “And he could  _choose_ not to hit her all the goddamn time.”

Shane held up his hands, making it clear he was acquiescing to her point. He respected her resolve with which she spoke, Rick could tell from the best friend’s good-natured chuckle and the way he licked his bottom lip as he nodded.  

“Yeah well I guess it’s not the same when you’re not carrying.”

Rick eyes widened, initially confused by Shane’s comment but then quickly zeroing in on what he had missed but the other lawman apparently hadn’t. 

The small tan handbag.

It had been hanging from Michonne’s shoulder, but distracted by everything else about her Rick, hadn’t noticed the way bulged with the unmistakable weight of a concealed firearm. He should’ve clocked it immediately, having been trained to do just that, especially the moment she slammed the bag down onto Rick’s desk when she got up to confront Shane.

That thud. It was what peeked Shane’s interest, his eyes not leaving the bag once. A curious smile continued to play on his lips.

“It’s licensed, if that’s what you’re wondering Deputy.” Michonne said, unable to hide the slightly nervous way her eyes scanned Shane’s face.

Shane took a moment, stepping in a little closer before answering with a relaxed grin on his face.

“Oh I wasn’t asking that.” He said, correcting her on her assumption he needed to see her permit. His tone was equal parts playful and precarious. Rick watched the interaction in silence, his mind racing with a million possible questions regarding Michonne’s weapon.  _What was she afraid of? Where did she get it? Who taught an art teacher from New York how to use a gun?_

_Did she plan on using it for a specific reason?_

Michonne’s face was still, unreadable except for the way her nostrils flared slightly with every breath she took. Like Shane, she took a moment before carefully whispering her response in a voice equally deceptive in its sweet delivery of words.  

“Well then, to your earlier question I say, let ‘em try something.”

“Attagirl.” Shane burst out into hearty laughter, breaking the tense stalemate and turning to Rick for the first time in a while. “Let ‘em come she says. Well ain’t that something!”

“Sure.” Rick smiled weakly. He was struggling to understand his partner’s reaction just the same as he did Michonne’s. 

“Well – Michonne was it? Michonne, I’m sure Carol left a little while ago. If you hurry you just may catch up with her a little further down the road.”

“I best get gone then.” Michonne said gathering her things immediately. Shane, who stood in her way a moment ago, turned to let her pass and like a gentleman extended his arm, showing her to the door. She returned the unnecessarily chivalrous gesture with a brisk nod before turning to say a far warmer goodbye to Rick.

She was about to disappear when Rick felt overcome by the urge to call out for her.

Having stopped her in her tracks, he felt suddenly pressured with the need to say something important.

“I’ll be keeping an eye out.” Rick’s declaration was met with a suspicious eye raise from Michonne. “I meant for the bear.”

“Just thought I’d let you know.” He said finally, catching himself once again crossing a line. Shane stood by looking slightly perplexed by the turn in conversation.

Michonne smiled, another warm one, just for him and Rick felt himself melt a little.

“Sure you ain’t got nothing better to be doing?” She teased and Rick felt the need to return the jest.

“Mr. Bear is my top priority. I’m determined to bring to justice anyone involved in his disappearance.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it then. Deputy Grimes. Hero.”

And with a final but earnest nod she disappeared.

Rick was still watching the empty space by the door Michonne left through, when he noticed Shane was staring back at him with a raised brow. Promptly deciding to ignore the questions that were playing on his friend’s mind, Rick busied himself with the mount of paper work he had been neglected in favor of Michonne’s company. He was relieved to find his friend didn’t push for any further explanation, but that didn’t stop the man from putting Rick under the microscope for the rest of their shift. When the day ended, so, Rick was relieved to find, did Shane’s watchfulness. His friend seemed to have forgotten the mysterious woman from just a couple hours before, instead looking forward to a cold end of work beer. 

Rick, however, decided to blow Shane off on his offer to head down to Ford’s for the treat. It was an innocuous tradition whenever they worked on Saturdays, but after today’s events, Rick couldn’t shake the suspicion that it was a ruse of sorts so Shane could undoubtedly resume his questioning.

No, Rick instead reminded his friend that he had a  _loving_ wife and son to get home to.

Shane shrugged and cracked a joke about making sure to  _get some_ on behalf of his sad, single self who would be left with no choice but to try his luck at Ford’s tonight. Rick forced a laugh and then they said their goodbyes.

Get some, thought Rick on his drive home, what was the point of that crude phrase anyway? What did it even mean, sexual gratification? Validation? Unburdening? Was that what he was after? A month ago, he would’ve answered yes with little hesitation. After the frustrating lack of  _some_  in the months before the night he brought home cotton candy and cajoled his wife into joining him under the covers - it was all he thought they needed to feel close again.

But then they disconnected, each rolling over to their own side of the bed. Feeling nothing was given and everything was lost.

Heartbroken by that thought and unable to pull up and into his own drive, Rick made the decision to drive on. Breaking his promise to Shane, he drove past his home, leaving in his rear view Lori and the dark vacuum that was his side of the bed;  choosing the more gratifying road of looking for a simple, scrawny stuffed bear instead. A lost toy, Rick didn’t realize at the time, that was somehow meant to fill an even greater, more soul-sucking emptiness for a grieving mother. The shape of a deceased toddler’s cot.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come visit me at my tumblr (gimmetheheadcanons) for any news and update regarding the writing schedule.


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